قراءة كتاب Seaward An Elegy on the Death of Thomas William Parsons

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Seaward
An Elegy on the Death of Thomas William Parsons

Seaward An Elegy on the Death of Thomas William Parsons

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
الصفحة رقم: 4

class="stanza">DOWN what dim bank of violets did he come,
The mild historian of the Sudbury Inn,
Welcoming thee to that long-wished-for home?
What talk of comrades old didst thou begin?
What dear inquiry lingered on his tongue
Of the Sicilian, ere he led thee in
To the eternal company of Song?

XXXIII.

There thy co-laborers and high compeers
Hailed thee as courtly hosts some noble guest—
Poe, disengloomed with the celestial years,
Calm Bryant, Emerson of the antique zest
And modern vision, Lowell all a-bloom
At last, unwintered of his mind's unrest,
And Walt, old Walt, with the old superb aplomb.

XXXIV.

N
NOT far from these Lanier, deplored so oft
From Georgian live-oaks to Acadian firs,
Walks with his friend as once at Cedarcroft.
And many more I see of speech diverse;
From whom a band aloof and separate,
Landor and Meleager in converse,
And lonely Collins, for thy greeting wait.

XXXV.

But who is this that from the mightier shades
Emerges, seeing whose sacred laureate hair
Thou startest forward trembling through the glades,
Advancing upturned palms of filial prayer?
Long hast thou served him; now, of lineament
Not stern but strenuous still, thy pious care
He comes to guerdon. Art thou not content?

XXXVI.

F
FORBEAR, O Muse, to sing his deeper bliss,
What tenderer meetings, what more secret joys!
Lift not the veil of heavenly privacies!
Suffice it that nought unfulfilled alloys
The pure gold of the rapture of his rest,
Save that some linger where the jarring noise
Of earth afflicts, whom living he caressed.

XXXVII.

His feet are in thy courts, O Lord; his ways
Are in the City of the Living God.
Beside the eternal sources of the days
He dwells, his thoughts with timeless lightnings shod;
His hours are exaltations and desires,
The soul itself its only period,
And life unmeasured save as it aspires.

XXXVIII.

T
TIME, like a wind, blows through the lyric leaves
Above his head, and from the shaken boughs
Æonian music falls; but he receives
Its endless changes in alert repose,
Nor drifts unconscious as a dead leaf blown
On with the wind and senseless that it blows,
But hears the chords like armies marching on.

XXXIX.

About his paths the tall swift angels are,
Whose motion is like music but more sweet;
The centuries for him their gates unbar;
He hears the stars their Glorias repeat;
And in high moments when the fervid soul
Burns white with love, lo! on his gaze replete
The Vision of the Godhead shall unroll—

XL.

T
TRINE within trine, inextricably One,
Distinct, innumerable, inseparate,
And never ending what was ne'er begun,
Within Himself his Freedom and his Fate,
All dreams, all harmonies, all Forms of light
In his Infinity intrinsecate—
Until the soul no more can bear the sight.

XLI.

O secret taciturn disdainful Death!
Knowing all this, why hast thou held thy peace?
Master of Silence, thou wilt waste no breath
On weaklings, nor to stiffen nerveless knees
Deny strong men the conquest of one qualm—
And they, thy dauntless comrades, are at ease,
And need no speech, and greet thee calm for calm.

XLII.

C
CAST them adrift in wastes of ageless Night,
Or bid them follow into Hell, they dare;
So are they worthy of their thrones of light.
O that great tranquil rapture they shall share!
That life compact of adamantine fire!
My soul goes out across the eastern air
To that far country with a wild desire!...

XLIII.

But still the marshes haunt me; still my thought
Returns upon their silence, there to brood
Till the significance of earth is brought

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